Epiphany/Book One/Chapter 3
Pourquoi is the third chapter of Epiphany: Book One. The full chapter was released on October 6, 2015. Synopsis A mysterious and ominous report is detailed to the Bolio family that provides answers. Appearances *Anthony Bolio *Enid Bolio *Gray Bolio *Dylan Bolio *Robin Haggerty Pourquoi ''“People are supposed to fear the unknown, but ignorance is bliss when knowledge is so damn frightening.” '' ― Laurell K. Hamilton THREE MONTHS AGO Day? Night? As Anthony pondered the drizzling snow over the navy blue sky and aurora streaks that showed no definitive sign of time, he couldn’t tell and he knew that ultimately, it didn’t matter. All he knew is that he was tired of this harsh, damned cold. ' ' He walked alone, bundled tightly in a huge snowsuit that, if he hadn’t been through this four dozen times over already, would hinder mobility greatly. He’d gotten used to hulking around in it. Scanning the radar in his gloved hands, Anthony then looked up from it and took in a deep inhale. Then he exhaled – observing his visible breath, a smile crossing his face. It never ceased to amuse him. Forty-four, balding, hawk-faced and intense, Anthony Bolio was known for being an intimidating man. An ex-Navy SEAL, Anthony was injured in combat training and decided to go to school for something a little less intense. He studied at the University of Michigan, completing the school’s prestigious Ecology, Evolutionary Biology & Behavior Program with honors. He met the love of his life, Enid, on campus and they married, moved to Pennsylvania where her family lived, and had two boys together. He left all of that behind for a six month investigation on the behavior of penguins in Antarctica, and he regretted it the moment he stepped off of that plane. He missed his family, he missed a comfortable home, and a comfortable bed. But he always knew traveling would be a part of his job, and making a difference and furthering his research was worth it in his mind. He knew it would be, in the end. Anthony, a self-proclaimed man of God, had fallen behind on his daily devotions and felt his soul suffering for it. As he broke out of the trance he had fallen into watching his own breath become visible, travel through the air, then dissipate into nothingness again, he knew he’d set it on his mind and heart to jump back into that once he returned back to base. The solid but paltry steel structure stood at one-story consisting of only four rooms, with two antennae on its peak, lights swirling and blinking slowly, almost hypnotically so. His work for the day having been completed and his mind set on growing closer to God, Anthony removed his gloves with gusto he hadn’t seen from himself in quite a long time. It was very cool to have such a strong relationship with the Creator that he wanted nothing more than to return to some solid prayer time that he had missed out on for a while. He tried to always justify it in his own thoughts, but just being honest with himself and admitting he had been lazy and regretted every missing moment, just gave him such a relief off of his shoulders. He punched in the code on the keypad with his naked fingers. He heard the click of the door’s locking mechanism, pulled on the handle, and allowed himself inside. The interior of the base was not any more attractive than its outside. It truly had a nightmarish quality to it – the entrance corridor was claustrophobic in nature, frozen, yet hypocritically steaming, pipes lined the ceiling, and a single light in the middle of the corridor flickered. The bulb was dying. One of us ought to replace that, Anthony thought to himself. There I go again, he followed the previous thought with… There was always something that would pop into his head and try to distract him from prayer time. He never knew if it was intentional or not. He didn’t care this time though. The bulb would have to wait. He had priorities. Although they were quite lonely and the isolation was daunting, Anthony did enjoy the privacy the small, one-man compartments they called “bedrooms”. One door, four tiny walls, and a bed shoved in between them. That was their room. He shut the door behind him and knelt at his bedside, putting his hands in a folded position against his face. He learned this as a Catholic schoolboy to be the designated prayer position and it stuck with him ever since. Even though he left the Catholic Church and was saved into Christianity, it was a habit he took with him from his experience. It made his worship time feel more personal. He spent fifteen minutes in deep prayer before feeling groggy and tired. He gave in, and felt defeated by the end of it. He wasn’t satisfied with the time he spent with God that day. He needed more, but he knew he was too tired – had more important things than building up his relationship with God, as ludicrous as that sounded. He had work to do. Anthony stood up, pulling his laptop out from the gaping space between his mattress and the floor. He sat on the foot of his bed, laptop on his knees. Powering it on, he stared into the forward-facing camera, clicked a button, and began to record a message. “I’m not sure if you’re online,” Anthony began with a soft smile. “So I decided I was going to leave this as a message. I miss you a lot. This is day…” And then he paused. Anthony realized he had forgotten what day it was. It had become so tough to keep track… He placed his two pointer fingers on either temple, rubbing his head pointedly with a sigh. He scoffed, truly embarrassed, “I’ve honestly forgotten. It’s tough to keep track, you have no idea. Enid, make sure the boys get to see this message. Especially Dylan, I know he had a tough time processing my leave, but I want you – son – to know that the days are counting down and I’ll be back home before you know it. You don’t wanna admit that you miss me, I know you’re at that age. Trust me, I’ve been there too. But I love you, son, and I can’t wait to see you again. And Gray, gosh, Gray, what is that boy up to now? Nobel Peace Prize yet?” A complex smile, one incredibly hard to read, mixed of jubilant pride and reflective longing, crossed Anthony’s face. “Gray, keep doing your thing. Keep blowing me away with new interests and ideas. It’s amazing that every day you find something new, something wonderful that you want to grow up to be. Maybe me not being home has been a wake-up call for this science thing you’ve got going on… it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. You need to make sacrifices for a job like mine. But you boys – when you find your calling, like I have mine – any sacrifices you make – and no matter what job you have, there’ll be some – but you’ll find that they’re worth it because you’re accomplishing something. You’re finding a passion, a drive for something. Reach for that, reach for your purpose, and you’ll be a-okay. I love you all, see you soon.” He turned off his recorder and sighed. He had more to say, he was just so exhausted.'' '' Can’t talk to God today, he thought to himself. And I can’t talk to my family. What am I good for? Anthony remembered the last time he spoke to his wife before leaving. It was an argument. A stupid one, a highly selfish one, that got his children involved. It was a very worldly argument that left him extremely disappointed and unfulfilled. He regretted it to this day. He felt the urge, a calling maybe, to leave another message. “Enid,” he began. “This one is for you, honey. I’m sorry about how I left. I’m sorry I dragged the boys into it, too. I’ve taken so long because at first I didn’t see my own wrong in the situation, and I had to bring it forward to the Lord. I feel called just to tell you how much I love you, and that—“ He stopped as he noticed the video stopped, and then the computer went dead. Anthony scoffed, annoyed, but amused. That’s what I get, he thought, internally chuckling at the situation. For not being upfront with her in the first place. The argument bothered him since he left, since things between him and his wife were left unspoken. He did not like that. But it was something he knew he’d address another time. Like he thought before, he had a lot of work to do today. Anthony moved quickly the room next door. The control center was where the group liked to relax and talk together; it was a makeshift community bedroom in a way. Old monitors with grainy, grayscale quality images displayed footage from the perimeter of the base itself. These monitors lined the walls of this room. He knew he’d find someone in there, and alas, as he entered the room, Anthony found Adrian sitting at a chair in front of the console, legs propped up on top of it. He snored gently, comparable to a cat’s peaceful purr. A tea cup was at the console, too. Anthony dipped his pointer and index finger inside of the cup and felt its contents; chilled tea. He shoved Adrian on the stomach, hard. “Adrian, get up. Tea’s cold,” Anthony said. “What?” Adrian grumbled, groggy. Adrian Stiles was a tall, thin, gaunt man in his twenties. A fresh undergraduate completing his program under the tutelage of the other scientists on base, he was a bit of a nuisance to them all and he knew and took advantage of that fact. He was undeniably brilliant, though. He definitely earned his place here. “Your tea? It’s cold,” Anthony repeated. “You finish it.” Adrian adjusted himself to get more comfortable in his chair, took a deep breath, and was ready to resume his sleep. Anthony pointed at the monitor in front of Adrian. “Have you been looking at these?” “…What is…?” “Star coordinates. They seem to have shifted…” “…As they always do,” Adrian grumbled half-heartedly. “But the speed in which they did so has increased in vast amounts,” Anthony began, a sense of urgency in his voice that he wished Adrian could have returned. “It’s almost unreal. When did you last update?” “Er-um,” Adrian said, rubbing his eyes, still half-asleep. “’Bout’s an hour ago.” Anthony looked over another monitor, watching two grayscale figures navigate through the snow. They are stood outside of the penguin’s living area. “I thought they’d be back by now,” Anthony noted. “Oh, Charlotte asked for an extension with the penguins.” “And you just gave it to her?” Anthony asked, his pitch getting high. And then he scoffed, shaking his head in pure annoyance, “You’re barely conscious, hardly in the shape to be making calls like that.” Beep. '' ''Beep. Beep. Anthony swung around, the incessant and persistent beeps catching his attention. His eyes fell to the radar on the opposite end of Adrian’s chair, where a single green circle is being picked up on the signal. And with every swing of the radar, it gets closer and closer. Anthony’s eyes perked up to the radar’s top, reading the Courier font that bulged out from the aging label: AERIAL ANTENNAE “What the hell’s wrong with that thing?” the annoyed Adrian asked from his chair. “Give me all monitors to the skies,” Anthony demanded. Clearing his throat and sitting up with a grumble, Adrian expertly drove the controls and flipped buttons until all of the surrounding screens gave a view of the skies above the base camp. Adrian stared at the screens, looking for what his colleague was so invested in. Then he turned to Anthony, confused: “What exactly are we looking for, Anthony?” “The aerial radar picked up an unidentified object,” Anthony said, softly. “Look… carefully…” And then it happened. A small meteor tore through the skies like paper. It was hurtling right for the snow surrounding the base. “Oh shit,” Adrian muttered. He must have repeated it several times in the course of a few seconds as he leapt out of his chair with unexpected energy. He grabbed for his coat and yelled back at Anthony, “Charlotte and Campbell are still out there. I’m taking a sled up there to reel ‘em in. Call them, man!” ---- Penguins waddled around in the freezing snow, at the edge of base camp’s perimeter. Charlotte Procter, pretty in a natural way with wavy red hair and a plain face, stood alongside her colleague and boyfriend Campbell. Charlotte held binoculars one hand, and a notepad and pen in the other, while Campbell had a video camera. Charlotte, intent on recording as much information as she could about these animals, spoke into a tape recorder, “After the sixth cycle, they seemed to have dispersed. It is as if they’re growing impatient at the non-arrival of their spouse.” “Are you getting this?” she asked, turning to Campbell with a glint of excitement in her eyes, “Look at their body movement!” Campbell adjusted his camera work, while Charlotte continued, “It’s more stern, more… annoyed! These creatures are a sight for the eyes, aren’t they? They’re almost human in the way they convey emotion!” All he could do was smile. The way she took her work so seriously was so cute to him. They were just dumb birds in his eyes, but he couldn’t help but convey the same sense of excitement Charlotte had when he saw how jubilant these things made her. He was brought along as a camera guy for these scientists, as a good way to document any of these scientists’ findings and perhaps make a documentary out of it, so he didn’t have the same sense of awe or wonder for their discoveries. There was a noise, something began to crackle, and it caught Campbell’s attention. It was coming from inside Charlotte’s satchel, which was discarded in the snow in her excitement when they first came to see the penguins. As she took notes, Campbell walked over to her satchel, reached inside and pulled out her walkie talkie. “Tony? I hear you – over,” Campbell spoke into it. “Coordinates 45 and 46,” Anthony’s voice spoke. And then he yelled, “SKIES!” “Oh my god,” Campbell heard Charlotte say from behind him. And a fast-approaching, high-pitched whistle. He turned, instinctively reaching out for her. He grabbed her arm before he even saw it. A meteor hurtling through the skies, advancing closer, howling as it rippled through the sky. They bolted through the snow, difficult as that may have seemed, they made it as far away as they could. Strangely enough, it got silent as it was about to make contact with the ground and then it made impact with a bang, throwing snow up in a wave of white slush. The chaos of the whirling snow caused the hurtling scream of a snowmobile to sound like a person to Campbell. Instinctively, though he gripped her arm tightly and knew she was beside him, he cried out, “Charlotte?!” He began to cough, breathing in smoke from the fog and snow, “I’m okay, I’m fine,” she insisted, through labored breath. He whipped his head around to face her, and felt the sick feeling in his stomach finally go away. Campbell just needed to see her face, look into those blue eyes of hers, to feel that sense of comfort return to him. Charlotte repeated her words, as if to remind herself, as he wrapped her in an embrace that would have been warm if not for the weather around them. The sound of Adrian’s snowmobile drew closer, louder. Charlotte, through her coughing, turned to the direction of it and yelled, “Over here!” Something came over Campbell, though. The curiosity that spiked in his mind and heart was disconcerting, he knew that for a fact. Something large and unidentified just fell out of the sky, but he had to get a closer look. He let go of Charlotte’s arm and moved toward it, navigating between the fog and in nearer proximity to the crater. He heard a strange and narrow hiss emerge from its direction. It was indescribable, as if a small creature purred and then squealed at him. Campbell fumbled with his camera, he had to capture this. Charlotte watched this all happen in pure terror, frozen in captivated fear. Campbell recorded his entrance to the rock. The hissing grew louder, and louder, with each second. “This space rock,” he narrated the footage. Catching his poor terminology in the heat of the moment, he quickly corrected himself, “''Asteroid'' – It’s shaking, almost like there’s some—“ The rock cracked open on its own, and suddenly a release of rapid smoke sprayed out of it, like spit from a child blowing a raspberry, splashing Campbell directly into his eye and mouth mid-sentence. He fell back from the shock of it, not initially feeling a thing. But not long after that, he felt an excruciating stabbing pain behind his eyes, as if tiny little people lived behind them and were spiking the back of his eyes with sharpened soccer cleats. Campbell squeezed his eyes shut and gasped from the intensity of this pain, his breath coming in wheezing whistles. He collapsed to his knees and, from his gaping mouth and trembling lips, Campbell finally let out a blood-curdling scream. Charlotte could barely see through the fog, but she heard his cries. “Campbell?!” She waved her arms in an attempt to duel with the fog, as if it were to wipe the cloudy substance away. Out of the fog, she saw his figure, but not standing, crawling. A frown crossing her face, one that conveyed discomfort, she approached cautiously. As he became more visible, Charlotte saw that Campbell’s eyes were shut. The veins on his eyelids bulged out inhumanly, disturbingly so. His hands were outreached and shaking, she noticed the tips of his fingers were hanging off with little support, as if the skin were peeled away like the top layer of an onion. He was still able to scream though, but it was more of a howl. His face terrified her and was nearly unrecognizable, it was melting away slowly, subtly so, but still noticeable enough for her to compare it in that moment like hot molasses dripping off of a spoon. Entranced by his horrific appearance, she had barely enough time to react to his arm grabbing her leg and his mouth moving forward and his jaws closing on her skin. She cried out immediately, “HELP! HELP!” Her screams gripped Adrian’s attention. He stopped the snowmobile at the very edge of the fog, swinging a strapped rifle from its place on his back, and followed her screams, which grew fainter and fainter. By the time he reached Charlotte, she was silent, sprawled in the blood-stained snow with her ankle chewed away by what appeared to be Campbell. Her flesh hung from his teeth and her bone was visible on her lower leg. She was unconscious at this point, Adrian assumed from the shock. Campbell wasn’t himself anymore. And he lunged at Adrian, giving another deafening howl. But Adrian wasn’t going to screw around. With a single pull of a trigger, Adrian blasted a quick round into Campbell’s head. He collapsed like a ton of bricks – still, unmoving. Scooping Charlotte into his arms, Adrian bolted for the snowmobile. He wisely followed his own footprints back to the snowmobile, placed Charlotte tentatively on its back, climbed into his place, and whizzed away from the fog and back toward base camp. ---- Anthony and Adrian didn’t know what to do, or how to discuss what just happened. Anthony didn’t need a recap: he saw the whole thing from the cameras inside, and Adrian wouldn’t have known how to describe what he had seen in the first place. All they knew is that they wanted to lock themselves inside their base camp, the uncomfortable prison they’d wanted to escape for what seemed like an eternity, because it felt like the only safe place in the world in that moment. What was outside was unknown. And the unknown terrified them. Rightfully so. Charlotte lay on a bed in front of them, shaky and pale. Anthony tended to her leg wound. Adrian returned from grabbing coffee, handing a steaming mug of the drink to Anthony, who accepted gravely, “Thanks.” “She speaking yet?” “No. Her body is literally exhausted. No energy, none at all.” “I shot him in the head.” “I know. I saw.” “His skin was dripping from his skull, I didn’t know—“ “I don’t want to talk about this right now,” Anthony said, his best attempt to not only calm his panicking compatriot, but himself. “We need to worry about keeping Charlotte stable. He tore through her foot, Adrian, and she’s already lost a lot of blood.” Adrian ran his fingers through his hair and gave a shudder as he said, “Whatever that thing was that dropped from the sky, it’s the bringer of death, man. I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I just – I just want to get out of here.” Anthony understood that what Adrian witnessed was terrifying, and he couldn’t wrap his brain around it either, but he couldn’t quite stand to hear any more of his chaotic rambling. He wanted to send him to get painkillers from the armory, but he figured he’d be better off doing it himself, just to get some time to think. “I’ll be back, I need to get her more pills. Stay here with her, please?” He left briskly, walking down the hallway. He just had to get out of there. His bedside manner was never the best, his wife Enid always told him so but now that it was being put to the test, he was able to finally admit that she was right all along. Anthony wanted nothing more than for Adrian just to stop talking about the horror that took place outside, he wanted nothing more than to never mention or think about the situation they were in ever again, and most of all he just wanted to be home with his family. Throwing open the armory door, he softly whispered to himself, “God, please, get me out of this in one piece.” Grabbing whatever he could out of the cabinet, Anthony shut the door behind him. He walked back toward the room, and as he heard a blood-curdling scream, his stomach gave a sick turn. Anthony had no idea what to expect behind the steel door, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know for sure. Whipping the door open, what he found inside was more horrifying than even his expectations could have imagined. Charlotte’s jaws were clamped onto Adrian’s neck. He was struggling to scream, choking and gurgling on his own blood. “CHARLOTTE!” Anthony cried instinctively. He wanted so desperately to save Adrian. Charlotte ripped away from Adrian, taking a chunk of his flesh with her. He fell backward, his hands going for his neck. She had bit so deep. Adrian collapsed to the floor, convulsing. He was definitely in shock. She gave an inhuman hiss, and from what Anthony could see, her eyes were now colored a sickly pale hue of yellow. Anthony reached for the rifle on the table, and aimed at Charlotte’s head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered through tears as his finger squeezed the trigger. She, it, whatever could be used to describe the maniac Charlotte rotted into, dropped to the ground with a thud. “I’m so sorry.” ---- “I’m sorry,” their father’s voice echoed over the speakers of their mother’s laptop, “I’m so sorry.” Gray and Dylan joined the small circle of individuals standing around Pastor Robin’s desk, watching their father’s face on the screen of their mother’s computer. Gray found himself with this feeling of a sick pit in his chest, empty and hollow, as he stared at the face of his father; it was like a specter appearing to him in the dead of night. Dylan felt eerily warm, as if it just now hit him how much he truly missed having his dad around. “I've been trying to get in contact all month,” Anthony’s voice continued. “I hope I made contact in time... I am in London now. I’ve been meeting with groups of scientists, trying to figure this thing out. But communications have fallen apart. It’s like this everywhere, don’t think you’re alone…” The room seemed silent. Gray could hear the ringing in his ears. It was as if everyone stopped breathing, every tic and tap of the foot froze in space. Hope died as mouths fell agape, escaping like a wispy spirit through their lips and fading away into the heavens. There was always this lingering hope, this feeling that maybe communicating falling was just a fluke thing. It had only been two months. Maybe someone would bring help. But this news told them otherwise and it was a heavy hit. “This virulent plague spread through the air, that’s how the initial infection started,” Anthony continued with his message. “It provides a heavy fever and the subject falls into unconsciousness before the infection takes over cognitive function and induces the victim into an uncontrollable and extreme rage. There seems to be a wide variety in the times it takes for a victim to become infected. Some took seconds. Others took days. It’s not really consistent, and that’s the scariest thing. It’s unpredictable.” “There were so many questions: Is it airborne? Bloodborne? The idiots, they brought it here. It crashed from space, and it killed three people, and they decide to airlift the meteorite and bring it to London. Arguably, next to the United States, one of the biggest world centers -- where people of all types and countries come and mingle -- potential for huge disaster. They just wanted to study it, figure out what it was. I wanted them to destroy it, but... They do not listen. They do what they please. And then this happens. It spreads, people get sick, people die, and now it's everywhere. Then, and only then, we figure out it passes both ''ways. Through the plague's release in the air and through blood... It seems like the passage of blood and saliva guarantees infection. We haven’t found any proof otherwise. The victims fall into their feverous state and at that point with the subjects we had, it was too dangerous to let them continue the infection process. We had to put them out of their misery. It just doesn’t make any sense. But this thing – it’s not of this planet, so maybe we just weren’t meant to figure it out. “But please, do not lose hope. I have watched so many die, and all I can do is cling to my faith. And cling to the hope that some day I can return home and see your lovely faces again, because I know I am. I pray on it every moment I can… I miss you, Enid, and I miss our boys. Please keep them safe. Keep this computer, and keep looking for contact from me. I know it’s unlikely I will hear anything from you anytime soon. I know that communication back home is much worse than it is over here, but in due time, it seems like the spread will continue and everything will fall apart here, too. I have faith that this is all part of God’s plan. This is the next step, phase two. Whether we’re involved in this phase or not – I ultimately don’t know. But please, keep praying. Keep loving each other. Don’t let go. I love you all. See you soon.” And the message cut out. Gray’s first instinct was to look directly at his brother to see his reaction, but Dylan’s face remained cold. Even for Gray, the person who probably knew him the best, it was incredibly tough to decipher exactly what Dylan was thinking or feeling. All Dylan felt in this moment was fear. That was not something he wanted to convey, especially not with his little brother in his presence. He wanted to show the strength of a fortress. Then their mother broke into instant tears and Gray turned his attention to her. He walked over and gripped her arm, biting his lips and eventually, not being able to hold it back as much as he truly wanted to, joining her in tears. Dylan just watched; his eyes wandering to them out of instinct and not care. He shook his head, feeling strange for not being there. But it would be awkward. He didn’t know what to do. He closed his eyes, and started praying silently in his head… ''Lord, please keep him safe. I just want my dad to come home. I want us to be a family again. '' Truthfully, the awkwardness came because Dylan vividly remembered the last time his mother and brother gripped each other tearfully. This was not a memory he liked to play back in his mind. Their father had returned home from a long trip. His trips took a toll on him, and his relationship with the family. Enid was a lonely woman who found ways to occupy her time in the absence of her husband, making friends and spending time with them, and getting two part-time jobs to pay for groceries. So on his time home, she was always doing something else. It made him feel unappreciated. It was, of course, a relatable concern, but when he took it out on his boys and his wife, it made him not only unappreciated, but unsympathetic. There was one night in particular where he called up his wife and screamed at her over the phone. Plenty of curse words and angry rants later, he proceeded to call his boys out on not doing anything around the house. It was miserable when he was home those days, especially because the brothers both missed their father while he was gone. And it truly hurt when he came home and seemed to want nothing more but to escape and get back on the next flight to wherever, to study whatever. He didn’t seem to care anymore. When Enid returned home, the argument continued. Gray was upstairs, having locked himself in the bathroom, crying. Dylan remembered standing outside the door, trying to talk him out of it. “Let’s go out and shoot some hoops,” he suggested. “We don’t need to hear this. This is grown-up talk, come on.” This suggestion worked, and the boys hustled themselves outside, where they played a quick game of 21. Dylan took it easy on the little guy, and ended up manipulating the game so that Gray could win. He needed that victory. They went back inside and overheard more of the argument. Dad didn’t think mom loved him anymore. There was a lot of ruckus over her seeming to care more about spending time with her friends than with her own husband. It all seemed childish to Dylan, but it hit Gray hard. He was scared. “Mom and dad hate each other,” he mumbled. “No they don’t,” Dylan explained. “People who love each other argue all the time.” He didn’t know what else to say. Their parents never argued before. It was just a rough patch. And although he didn’t let Gray see it, Dylan felt like this hit him and tore him apart harder than it did Gray. He remembered more, he saw more of his parents than Gray did. He had four years as an only child, and all he could envision was the happiness his parents would always radiate. This fight tore him apart inside, and all he could do was remain strong and vigilant. For Gray’s sake. So he turned the TV to the highest volume and put on some stupid video game that Gray really enjoyed, and suffered through it… again, for Gray’s sake. At the night’s end, Gray hugged his mother and they both cried together. Just like they did here, while Dylan shuffled aside on his lonesome with his father. They were both similar in that way; both were not very good at explaining their feelings, and waited until the moment the emotion would erupt volcanically from them, so much so that they were unable to control the damage the magma caused. Dylan knew he needed to make it different this time. He stared at his mother and brother as they cried, and as these memories flooded back, without another moment’s hesitation, he joined the embrace and let it out. ---- “How did you find dad’s message?” Gray asked his mother as they lay together in their designated room. Enid did her best to make it as homey as possible, but it was just so small for her and her two boys to live in comfortably together. She even set up pictures. Those were very important to her. Memories captured in a frame so that they couldn’t drift away, she’d always say. “It popped up on my laptop this morning,” she replied. “We must have gotten a small burst of Wi-Fi signal again.” “It’s weird that it keeps going in and out,” Gray noted. “I wonder if he’s sent more. Does it have a timestamp?” “I barely know how to hit the play button let alone find any timestamp,” Enid snorted. “Can you look?” “I can try,” Gray muttered, not really oozing the greatest confidence here. “You’ll do more than try, Gray,” Dylan said, giving his best effort to pep his brother up. “You could install a new operating system on that in like, ten seconds ''tops…” “Okay, timestamps, operating systems… you two have lost me,” Enid said with the faintest chuckle. She handed him the laptop, and he seemed to instantly find it. Then he leapt up and looked at the calendar, where Enid had successfully kept track of the days gone by, for reference. “He sent it only two days ago,” Gray said. A smile crossed his face. “Dad’s still alive.” Enid grabbed her two boys and held them close, huddling together in a happy silence on the floor where they were to sleep. Of course, Gray would see the good news in this whole situation… Dylan thought. He admired it. Those were his last thoughts before he drifted away to sleep. Gray, however, stayed awake longer than his brother. He looked to his mother, who had not yet drifted into her slumber, and whispered fearfully, “What will happen with Dominic?” Enid did not know how to answer. “Just go to sleep, baby,” she said. “We can talk more about this in the morning.” And that was just what Gray feared. Deaths *Campbell (flashback) *Charlotte (flashback) *Adrian (flashback) Trivia *The title for the chapter, "Pourquoi", refers to a pourquoi story (pourquoi meaning "why" in French), a fictional narrative that explains why something is the way it is. Usually it tells the origin story of something natural in a fantastical way, such as why tigers have stripes or why the sun and the moon are in the sky. **The chapter's original title, "Zero", referred to Campbell being 'Patient Zero' of the Plague. Category:Epiphany Category:Issues Category:Epiphany Issues